'Uhamba nini'

A Lesson in Media Training 101

A lot of what politicians say sounds scripted and rehearsed, as it should, right? When you're a public leader, the last thing you want is to stir up whispers of tension in the GNU group chat or ignite drama over policy decisions.

All fine and well, until the media takes its sweet time to pack up after a press briefing.

Yep. A big oopsie.

Finance Minister Enoch Godongwana found himself in hot water thanks to a hot mic. Unaware he was still being recorded, he let off some steam about SARS Commissioner Edward Kieswetter, chatting candidly with department DG and cabinet colleague Khumbudzo Ntshavheni. The moment was peak "say it with your chest" energy, just not while the cameras are still metaphorically (and literally) rolling.

The thee muskateers

I cannot tell you how toe-curling awkward this is. Aside from revealing internal tension over the proposed VAT increase (that’s a whole other story), this incident reminds us why media training isn’t just about polished soundbites. It’s about how you behave when surrounded by lenses, mics, and journalists who aren’t quite done rolling.

Look, for someone who’s been in the game this long, you’d expect the minister to know: if the media hasn’t packed up, assume everything is still live. This is Media 101. The moment a mic touches your lapel or looms over your head, you are officially on the record, even if you’re just chatting about the rugby.

And no, it’s not a trap. It’s for production purposes. We keep the audio running to make sure it’s clean, clear, and battery-stable. That’s standard operating procedure.

Cringe? Absolutely. But it’s the wake-up call government comms teams need. Ministers shouldn’t be stepping into interviews with a whole entourage, only to go live (and off-air, as was the case here) completely unprepared and unaware of their surroundings.

The logistics surrounding interviews are just as important as the talking points. There’s a call time. There’s makeup. There’s a mic check. And for the love of all things broadcast, there’s a reason we ask you to silence your phone, or better yet, leave it with your team.

This isn’t rocket science. Even in pressers where no one’s being formally mic’d, if there are mics on the table, assume they’re hot. That audio doesn’t magically switch itself off the moment you stop speaking. So when the minister decided to chill post-presser and have a lekker skinder session, well, the mics were just doing their job.

Lesson learnt (hopefully): never underestimate the power of a well-placed mic. And maybe skip the gossip till you're out of earshot, or at least until the media's actually gone.